


intents & purposes

by BlackCats



Category: Transistor (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Post-Game, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 06:42:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4169847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackCats/pseuds/BlackCats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Goodbye, Sybil."<br/>(Red, Sybil, and the end.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	intents & purposes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GStK](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GStK/gifts).



It’s a quarter past three and the sun is (of course) shining, when she finds her.

Though she’s surprised at first in the worst way possible, it only stands to reason that Sybil would approach her when _he’s_ not here, when there’s no sign of danger at hand besides a pitchfork in a hay bale and some crows calling out in the distance.

Sybil approaches with all the wariness of a distrustful dog, and all Red can think of is that she’s miscalculated _badly_ if she believes the absence of _him_ means she’s safe from harm.

Red tenses up immediately, even though they’re alone, even though she hasn’t had to fight in _God_ knows how long, because time has reduced itself to something serene and golden, here.

Or at least it _had._

Sybil’s appearance might as well be a rain cloud against the Country’s flawless blue sky. Red slowly meets her eyes and Sybil’s fingers twist around the handle of her parasol—she’s uncharacteristically nervous. Ms. Reisz, the shining star of any party, is doddering about like a newbie fresh to high-rise society, and Red would smirk if she wasn’t filled with such fury.

It’s serene, though. Red’s expression is caught somewhere between skeptical and furious; the result is something bizarrely calm, though her eyes have pulled to dangerous slits.

She didn’t have to show herself.

Red’s known all along that Sybil would be here, and so would all the rest of the Camerata, their victims, and everyone else.

But Sybil never had to come to her. It would have been better for them both if she hadn’t.

The timing of this is too precise. _He’s_ not here because he’s gone to scope out a nearby settlement, probably collecting his thoughts as well, and Red’s all right with that--she needs some time alone too. He’s due back soon and there’s been no danger in the Country anyway.

Yet she’s here not _seconds_ after he’s out of sight. The fact that she’s been watched by Sybil again makes her sick to her stomach.

It’s too precise.

And Sybil’s too quiet.

Red sighs.

“…Well?” she prompts, soft, but loud in the silence.

The crows say nothing.

That red-and-white parasol spins slowly in her fingers. Sybil refuses to meet her gaze.

“…Red,” she says, but that’s all.

Honestly, she’s half a breath away from leaving, but something’s holding her back. She regards Sybil coolly, a breeze playing through her hair and the ends of her dress.

She’s not going to be the one to start this—but she’ll _end_ it if Sybil has nothing to say after all.

(But her words can’t fix what she’s done. She thinks they both know this already.)

Sybil eventually gathers herself up and pulls in a slow breath. “…Red. Could I speak with you? Just for a few moments.”

Her voice has regained its crisp and brisk clarity, but there’s a buzzing tremor behind every word, embedded in those faintly shaking syllables. She’s afraid.

Red’s almost amused, but it tastes bitter on her tongue. She rolls her shoulders and sighs, looking away towards a barn in the near distance before sparing Sybil a corner-of-the-eyes glance. “…All right. Something tells me you won’t take ‘no’ for an answer anyway.”

Sybil had never liked to be denied.

There’s an almost palpable relief in the air. She’d have said that Sybil had never planned to get this far, but people like the Camerata, they planned for nearly _everything_. She squares her shoulders and looks Red head-on at last.

She’s not afforded the same courtesy.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Neither was this conversation.”

Her immediate reply spooks Sybil somewhat, and she smiles just the faintest bit in satisfaction. The socialite recovers quickly, however, and she begins to pace in long, slow movements.

“I never… _wanted_ this to happen,” she tries again, and Red only parrots it back, pause and all, though with the addition of an _either_. A touch of something like frustration edges into Sybil’s eyes—ah, but that’s not the right word. It’s something just as fierce, but so much more _desperate_.

Red’s noticed she’s walking in circles. She simply watches.

“To disperse the echo in here,” she begins anew somewhat heatedly, but it burns out within seconds. Softer. “I _never_ desired for even an _instant_ for Cloudbank’s destruction! You have to believe me on that.”

She has no patience for this. Not after what she’s done. Red shakes her head. “I never said you wanted this. I _know_ what the Camerata were after…and I know how you did it.”

Sybil bites her lip and nods. “Red…darling, please, I didn’t intend for—“

“Look,” Red interrupts with another sigh. “Sybil. What are you _really_ here for?”

And she fixes her with a scorching blue stare. Sybil only increases her pacing, moving her parasol to her other shoulder as if to shield herself from that glare.

“I came here to, for all intents and purposes, throw myself at your feet and beg for forgiveness. I would, at least, if I knew you would accept it.”

She stops.

“I would if it were at all sincere, for _I_ am not the only one at fault.”

Red makes an incredulous sound, straightening up from the fence she’d been leaning upon. “You can’t be serious about that.”

Sybil’s hands shake. “It was to get _him_ , at first, you see. Perhaps I…I… _overreacted_ , but—“

“’Overreacted’?” Red repeats, deathly quiet. “ _’Overreacted’?_ You singled the both of us out to die.”

“Not you!” Sybil whirls on her. “Not…I mean, I wasn’t going to—“

“Whatever you _intended_ doesn’t matter, because look what’s happened.”

“ _It’s not just me!_ It’s you! You too are at fault, you too should share some blame! I…I never would have done so if you hadn’t ignored me!”

Red goes still for a moment, trying to understand what Sybil’s getting at. Her mind flies back to the days, the weeks, the months before the entirety of Cloudbank met its Processed end. She recalls Sybil as a relatively constant presence in her life for the bulk of the past season, and yet—

She recalls _him_ telling her that something strange had been happening to the city as of late. But his investigations had been so informal, so early, and it was far too late in a way to matter. The rest of the period is a blur of concerts and _his_ company, and Sybil’s just…

She’s one of those people Red speaks with at parties, but not the sort to bring home with her, to drink half-flat soda on a balcony with and laugh over flatbread.

Sybil’s been frequent, sure, but she—

“You ignored me,” Sybil murmurs bitterly, searching Red’s face for some sort of… _something_. “You grew more and more distant as the time wore on, and all I wanted was…was to…”

Red gradually leans back against the fence as she turns this over in her mind; it’s not entirely new information. She’s read it before, but hadn’t been able to afford it very much thought. It hadn't mattered then.

Maybe it doesn't matter now.

“I didn’t intend to hurt you, Sybil.” Red picks her words carefully. “I can promise that.”

She overrides Sybil’s next words though, continuing.

“But that doesn’t make this any better. Not for an instant. What happened to _him_ , what was going to happen to _me_ …the only thing I can tell you?”

Red stands.

“I’m sorry it turned out this way.”

Sybil swallows, her skin still pale in defiance of the sun’s radiance.

The silence returns.

She won't break it.

“…I’m sorry too,” Sybil finally says, halfway turning away before pausing. She strokes her fingers against her throat, down to the collarbone, an unreadable smile tilting the edges of her lips up just so. “Riddle me one final thing. Will you still be singing, Red?”

Red crooks a small, mysterious smile of her own.

“I have my voice again. I don't plan to stop anytime soon."

There’s something there in Sybil’s answering nod, and in her own, too.

With that final say, Sybil Reisz leaves without another word.

**Author's Note:**

> So Transistor is basically one of my top three video games which means--I have to write at least a fic or two. Here's hoping my interpretation jives with yours!


End file.
